


Everyday.

by Hauptmann_Rivaille



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: FACE family AU, Family Fluff, M/M, fem! twins, i don't even know man I wanted to write something fluffy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 09:26:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1683347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hauptmann_Rivaille/pseuds/Hauptmann_Rivaille
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which there's a sports journalist who marries a professional model, and then there are two little girls who have the best family ever!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everyday.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello ~  
> Nope I didn't misspelled the title, it's shamelessly stolen from that Buddy Holly song called "Everyday." I don't know that song just makes me happy. Anyways, you can go ahead and listen to it here: youtube dot com /watch?v=gEZnGTRByh0. As I said before this was written just because I needed to write something like this. I hope you like it! :)

 

 

 

.

 

     “Now, we’re almost done.” He says, and places the little purple brush above the white wood dresser. He opens the first drawer and pulls out several ribbons of different colors, spreading them between long, slender fingers. “Which one?” He asks. 

Madeline bits her lip nervously and her gaze goes quickly from the ribbons to her father. After a few seconds, she points at one of them and answers. “Blue.”

“Ah,” Francis smiles. “Good choice, you have a very good taste.” He stands behind her after closing the drawer and places a blue ribbon on each of her ponytails. “And look, they match with your uniform.” He winks at her from the reflection on the mirror and Madeline smiles again, widely. 

“Merci.” 

And if her ribbons also match with the blue dress shirt her Papa is wearing, it might as well be a coincidence.

     In the next room, however, things are not that simple to Arthur.

To brush and put a ribbon on a little girl’s hair is not a complex thing to do, but it’s Amelia we’re talking about. 

And even if Arthur really wants to do such thing, he has to find her first.

“Amelia, please.” He begs miserably before looking inside the bathroom, then behind the curtains of the shower and finally, he goes back to the room to look for her in the closet. There is a blue dress in one hand and a pair of socks in the other. “It’s getting late for school and you are not even dressed!” 

“I don’t want to go!” she yells, and the sound comes from under the bed.

Arthur approaches and gets on his knees beside it, sighing. “Why not?” Amelia does not answer and he sits on the floor, dropping the dress on his lap and resting his back on the bedside table. “Maddie’s ready, you know?”

“I don’t care.” 

Arthur sighs again and throws his head back. There is a rather colorful poster of Wonder Woman next to the window that captures his attention from the corner of his eye. Suddenly, he has an idea.

“You are not coming, then?”

“No.”

“Oh, well, I guess you don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I can’t force you.” He says. “But I think Wonder Woman may be a little disappointed… though she cannot force you, either.”

A little head peeks from under the bed, just beside his knee. Arthur shifts a little to give her some space.

This is going to work.

“Wonder Woman?”

“Yes.”

“But-but why?”

Arthur shrugs nonchalantly. “I don’t know, maybe she was waiting for you…” and he pokes at her nose, “to take care of Madeline.”

“Maddie?”

“M-hm.” He nods. “But it’s alright, Wonder Woman also knows that it is your first day of school after all and it is perfectly normal for you to be nervous and scared.”

“I-I’m not scared.” Amelia replies quickly, voice trembling slightly.

“Well, maybe, but we don’t know about Maddie.”

The girl rests her chin in the back of her hand and frowns, a few seconds later, blue eyes look up at Arthur.  “Dad?”   
  
“Yes?”   
  
“I decided I have to go to school.”

“Really?” Arthur asks, feigning surprise as he watches his daughter getting out of her hiding place. She stands in front of him and nods with the same seriousness she spoke before. Arthur smiles warmly at her. “Very well then, let’s get you ready.”

Minutes later he is, finally, trying to put a ribbon on the girl’s hair after spending a good amount of time trying to brush it. He gives up and decides a couple of star shaped brooches suit her best.

“Are you ready?” asks Francis from the door, Madeline firmly holding his hand. She proudly carries the polar bear-backpack she has since she was a baby.

“Almost,” Arthur states, before the second brooch goes  click  and smiles satisfactorily. “Now we are.”

Amelia runs to one of the corners in the room to pick her backpack, it’s blue with red and white stripes and stars stamps. She stands in front of her sister and says, “Don’t be afraid, okay? I’ll take care of you.” Her expression is comically stern but her voice still wavers a little.

Madeline blinks once, twice, and after a second she nods and smiles. Both Francis and Arthur know that even if that is the deal, the younger is so much calmer and less nervous about the whole thing. Still, Maddie liked whenever her sister played the heroine role for her, especially when it took most of Amelia’s effort and bravery. 

Arthur hears what it sounds like a bus parking outside and goes to the window to check if it’s the school bus driver that has come to take the girls. “The time has come.” He says once he sees the big yellow bus.

His words seem to turn on something inside Amelia’s head, because she yells “Let’s go!” before taking Madeline by the hand and storming out of the room.

Francis runs behind them. “Wait! I haven’t given you your-Amelia! don’t run in the stairs!” 

Arthur stays there, wide eyed, and then he laughs. 

Sometimes he wonders if being parents of two little boys instead of girls would be easier. 

However, when from outside both his daughters blow him kisses and wave at him just before getting in the bus, and then he sees Francis standing in the doorway looking like he’s lost all of the air inside his lungs, he decides this is perfect as it is.

 

.

.

.

     Francis  Bonnefoy favorite part of the day was the sunset.

It didn’t have anything to do with some corny tale about the sun saying goodbye or the metaphor of the end of a moment leading to another. It was basically because, if you looked right into the horizon, you could clearly see for a few minutes the change of colors in the sky. It was more like a slow dance, with such grace that you couldn’t tell where one color started and other ended. Light blue vanishing into beautiful pink shades, then orange and red or even purple. And all of this exposed briefly for those who took the time to look at the sky. It was just beautiful. 

Also, it was after walking in the sideway with his eyes looking at the sky some random afternoon when he met his now husband.

Francis was a professional model, and he was coming home from a photo session. He liked walking home because it gave him space to think, and by the time he arrived to his apartment it felt as though all the stress from the day was left outside. 

That particular day, a young man with scruffy blonde hair that he hadn’t met before was standing in front of the main entrance of his building. He was struggling to put his key inside the lock, task that had been easy if not because he was also carrying two heavy brown bags from the supermarket on each arm. Francis said hello and the stranger greeted him back. The monstrosities he had for eyebrows went surprisingly unnoticed when the Frenchman centered his attention in the eyes. 

The bright green spell in which Francis found himself into disappeared in no more than two minutes. 

Because despite him being totally charming, gentle and smooth talking with everybody, they had barely crossed word and they were already fighting (Francis would say that the temptation was just too big for some reason, maybe due to the other’s priceless reactions.), so after bickering about nothing in particular both men entered the building and each one went to their own apartment. 

As the days passed by, the growing curiosity that Francis felt for the man with gorgeous eyes that cursed like a sailor (or a pirate, a captain. And yes, that grumpy and obviously British man wrapped in a pirate costume was something that the blond just  had to watch) made him talk with his other neighbors just to learn a bit more about him.

The name, Francis discovered, was Arthur Kirkland (although he already knew his last name from his mail box). He was twenty-three years old, worked as a sports journalist for a local newspaper and had just moved to Marseille a week ago. How Francis didn’t tell was beyond him. 

As for relationships, nothing stable since his wife left him six months ago when he was still living in London, according to Belle. 

“You should talk to him.” She had said with a mischievous smile. “You two surely would make a cute couple.”

“First we have to know if he’s interested in guys, don’t you think?” was his answer. The girl laughed at his face.

Even if her reaction told him that Arthur was possibly gay and knowing this caused him a particular sensation of enjoyment, Francis was still curious about the man, especially about the whole wife subject. 

And even if he discovered that gossiping was something that suited him quite well, he stopped asking strangers about Arthur's life and decided to visit the man and just talk to him directly. 

And although he also believed he already knew a lot about the Brit, when he opened the door Francis did not expect to see him holding and feeding a baby in his arms.

Neither had he expected to see another baby sleeping peacefully in a bassinet placed in the center of the room.

 

.

.

.

     “Um, Papa?”

He’s in the living room, reading absently some fashion magazine when Madeline stands in front of him. In her hands she holds a small cardboard box.  

Francis looks at her and  puts the magazine aside. “Yes, ma petite?”

“Are you busy? “ She asks, purple eyes shining expectantly behind her glasses.   


“Not for you.” He smiles. The girl looks down and moves her box from side to side, thinking. “What’s wrong?”   


Madeline looks back at him. “Today, at recess, Miss  Braginskaya taught me something.”

“Oh? And what is it?”

“She taught me how to braid my hair.” 

Francis's eyes widen slightly. “Really?” She nods. “Can you show me?”

“Mais oui! Papa, I can braid your hair if you want!”

Francis does not know what to say for a minute, so he smiles again.    
  
“I'll be more than honored.”

Madeline steps closer and places the box on his father's lap; opening it. “Here I have my comb, some clips, laces and elastic bands.” He looks inside the box and gasps. “Wow, aren’t you a professional?” 

She giggles softly before asking “Do you want me to do it here?” 

Francis taps his index finger on his chin and looks around. “Um, not bad,” He starts “but before that, where’s your sister and your dad?”

“In the backyard.”

“How about we join them?” Madeline nods and closes her box. Francis stands up, holds her hand and they both walk towards the kitchen, then to the backyard.    
  
It was a nice summer afternoon and the sun was present, bright and yellow; its rays fell upon the row of bushes of different kinds of flowers of which Arthur felt so proud of and that marked the limits of their property.

“Come on!” Amelia shouts, standing in the middle of the yard and shaking her hips and swinging a baseball bat in the air.

A few feet away, Arthur, glove in hand, is ready to throw the ball. “Are you sure you don’t want to play football instead?”

“No, soccer is boring!”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “It’s football, not soccer.” He scolds half-heartedly. “And you don’t know what you're missing… but as you like, missy. Are you ready for a deadly curve?”

“Yes!”

Francis sits on the grass, in a place where he and Madeline can see the other two run and play with no risk of being hit by the ball. Her daughter, standing behind him, begins to brush his hair. “Come on Amelia!” he shouts.

Arthur turns to look at them and places a hand to his waist. “Oh, really?” He raises an eyebrow, and asks, with a gentle tone of voice, “Maddie? Whose side are you, love?”

She instinctively looks at her sister, and Amelia makes a dismissive sign with her hand.  

“Come on daddy!“

Arthur smiles and bows dramatically. “I shall not disappoint you.” 

“Less talk and more baseball, old man.” says Francis, smirking. “Your daughter is falling asleep.”

Arthur turns back to Amelia  and the girl pretends to yawn.

“Oh, she'll be more than awake after this pitch!” He exclaims before throwing the ball.

Minutes later, Madeline finishes braiding Francis’ hair. She sits between his legs and lets her father braid her hair as well. They watch Arthur and Amelia as they run around the yard, the girl won’t drop the bat despite of Arthur’s cries.

“You have to throw it after hitting the ball!”

“I don’t want to!”

He chases her for a moment until he finally traps her, holding her in the air and making her drop the bat at last. The girl can hardly breathe from laughing, and then Arthur starts running, carrying her above his shoulder.

“Maddie?” Francis asks suddenly, making Madeline look back at him. “Would you help me prepare some lemonade for the athletes?"

“Yes, Papa.” 

They enter the kitchen and minutes later, Arthur and Amelia follow suit, both of them obviously exhausted. Francis places the jar of fresh lemonade along with four glasses above the table. He serves the girls first.

“You look beautiful Papa.“ Amelia says once she gives a huge gulp to her drink, looking at Francis’ plaits.

“Why thank you, I owe it to my professional stylist.” Francis  winks and  nods towards Madeline.

“Good work Maddie!” The girl  barely  smiles, shyly, behind the rim of her glass. “Dad,” Amelia continues, turning his attention towards Arthur. “Don’t you think Papa looks beautiful too?”

The man, to Francis surprise,  blushed.

“Er-” he coughs, gripping his glass tightly. “Yes, yes he looks great, and Madeline you look gorgeous.” 

“Papa did it!” she answers happily with a smile. 

“Good work,” Arthur looks at his husband and raises his glass in a toast; Francis mimics the gesture and grins.

“Same to you, what a game.”

“And I won Papa!” 

“Of course Amelia, you're the best player I've ever seen.”

They finish their drinks, and then Arthur tells the girls to go and wash up for dinner. Francis is strangely not in the mood for cooking -in reality he’s just tired- so he decides to order a pizza instead. 

He hangs up the phone of the kitchen wall and when he turns around, he has Arthur right before him. The other’s hands began to gently remove the laces of his hair. “I thought I looked beautiful.” He teases.

“Shut up,” Arthur replies quietly “…and quit smiling at me like that.”

“Why?” Francis asks placing his hands on the other’s waist, pulling him closer. “Do I make you nervous?”

Arthur snorts, but says nothing until he finishes removing the laces. He runs slender fingers through golden hair delicately, and then he’s cupping Francis face in his hands, thumbs gently rubbing his cheeks. 

Francis whispers, “I think she really likes my hair.” 

Arthur smiles, and says “She’s not the only one.” Before leaning in to kiss his husband on the lips.

 

.

.

.   
  
     It turned out that Arthur had difficulties with the whole parenting thing. 

Having grown up as the youngest child in a family formed mostly by men, - being his mother the only lady in the house- that weren’t exactly kind to him, he didn’t know how to take care of two little girls.

He knew the basics; how he had to feed them; the diaper changing process and how to give them a bath. He did not know, however, the types of food he should buy according to the girl’s ages and since Feliciano, his landlord and long-time friend, almost begged him that under any circumstances,  _ ever_, tried to cook for them personally, he felt even more useless.

Francis, on the other hand, was an older brother. He had a younger sister only but he basically raised her and therefore he knew everything there was to know about children. That didn’t mean that he loved kids or even wanted to have his own in the future, but his knowledge was more than useful to Arthur.  

Although Francis actually thought it was funnier to tease him and watch the countless expressions on Arthur’s face (embarrassed, angry, surprised, annoyed, and utterly annoyed), the sincere "Thank you" and the fleeting smile the Brit gave him every time he helped him were quite nice too.

(They once agreed to go shopping together, because that was what Francis did every Tuesday and coincidentally, Tuesdays were Arthur’s days off.)

Everything stopped being funny and enjoyable though, when the Frenchman realized he spent most of his time in Arthur’s apartment; when, in one of those regular trips to the supermarket he offered to take Madeline with him to make things easier for Arthur just to minutes later found himself in the baby toys aisle wondering what he was doing with his life, while a baby looked at him from the shopping cart, smiling and hugging a polar bear – a white backpack that seemed way too big for her. 

When Antonio, his best friend , called him a Friday night with the argument that they had over a month of not hanging out, to which Francis apologized and said that maybe some other time, because he was busy right now, only feeling slightly guilty after glancing at the dinner he had prepared for Arthur and a bottle of wine he had just bought because hell, they deserved it.

When, at work, after hearing that one of his colleagues would take a break from the runways since she was pregnant, he congratulated her and told her he was genuinely happy for her, and after that she asked if he had children and he answered with a simple "No”. An answer that mentally didn’t seem to satisfy him, because there were a Madeline and an Amelia he felt deserved to be mentioned but oh, who was he trying to fool.

And finally, when one morning he woke up panting and covered in sweat due to a rather hot and revealing dream that included the Brit -and honestly, it was not the first time that happened. The big problem was that in this dream specifically, as his lips left a trail of kisses on Arthur’s neck, said man caressed his face lovingly before suddenly muttering three fateful words.  _ I love you. _

It was terrifying, because instead of backing away Francis smiled against his skin and after leaving one last kiss behind Arthur’s ear he replied.  _ I love you too. _

 

.

.

.

     Amelia´s jumping on the bed like she's being doing it for the past twenty minutes. Her Papa is rummaging through her closet looking for her pajamas. 

"Mon  dieu, this is such a mess." He says, several clothes in hand, "I don't want to think about how this is going to look like when you're a teenager."

"I don't want to think about that at all." Arthur comes into the room  carrying Madeline, whose head is resting sleepily on her daddy's neck.

Amelia stops, "Why?"

Arthur clears his throat and notices how Francis is also waiting for a response, smirking. He looks down at Madeline and then back to Amelia, "Well, It's not going to be easy to carry you both once your fifteen, is it?"

Amelia laughs, like she can picture her daddy trying to do such thing.

"And," Arthur continues "You won't ask me to read you poems before going to bed like you do now."

Madeline raises her head just a little "I will " she says quietly "I like your poems."

"Me too!"  Amelia shouts, and she's  jumping again.

"Found it! yells Francis all of a sudden, finally with pajamas in hand.

He changes his daughter's clothes and tucks her in bed. Maddie asks if she can stay with her sister only for that night and of course, Francis and Arthur agree.

Arthur tells a story about a knight and a princess, and by the time he's finished the girls are already half- asleep. He and Francis leave the room with a quiet "Good night", and once the door is closed, Madeline turns to face her sister.

"Amy...? Amelia?" she whispers.

After a moment, she hears a "Hmm?"

"I don't want to sleep yet." she says, even if her voice betrays her.

"I do."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"Ok, what if I tell you a poem?"

"I'd like that."

" Mmm ok let me think..."    
  
"…"

"Ok I've got one.." and she starts with a lower voice,  " So you haven’t got a drum, just beat your belly ...  So I haven’t got a horn I’ll play my nose."

Madeline continues,  "So we haven’t any cymbals, we’ll just slap our hands together."

"And though there may be orchestras , that sound a little better..."

"With their fancy shiny instruments that cost an awful lot,"

"Hey, we’re making music twice as good..."

"By playing what we’ve got!"

They finish in unison and then they start giggling.

"Let's sleep now" says Amelia, "ok?"

Madeline hums in agreement, and after a few minutes of silence, she adds, "I like his poems."

She thinks Amelia is already asleep, until she hears her voice. "Yeah..."

"And I'll still like to hear them when I'm fifteen."

" Yeah... me too."

"Good night, Amelia."

"Good night, Maddie."     


.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *poem can be found in the book "Where the sidewalk ends" by Shel Silverstein, is a collection of children's poetry :)


End file.
